Transfer
by italktomyself
Summary: Michonne doesn't like caring about people, but Rick's goodness demands it. Rick acknowledges that he has an attraction to Michonne that's primarily mental and increasingly physical. A slow-burning Richonne fic b/c according to Andrew Lincoln, they both have trust issues. Begins after the Woodbury residents arrive at the prison (S3 finale). Characters and settings property of AMC.
1. Chapter 1

Spring is half over, and there are triple the mouths to feed, so they don't bother with icebreakers.

As the Woodbury-ites move in their belongings, Ricks pulls Hershel and Daryl aside and tells them they're in charge from now on. He's taking Carl's advice, taking a rest from leadership. Apparently, this came one decision too late because Carl is furious at him over all the foreign faces. But maybe with his extra free time, Rick can mend that rift between father and son more quickly than normal.

Hershel suggests recruiting other members to form a small council, so Daryl approaches Carol, and Hershel enlists Sasha and Tyrese, the only Woodbury-ites he's familiar with. The first item on the agenda is a bit of a no-brainer; secure the gate, clear the field, plow the land, and plant crops.

They call a town hall meeting in the prison cafeteria, and people throw out suggestions. Taking a cue from Morgan's deranged yet ingenious set-up, Rick suggests an outer wall of wooden spikes, and Andrew, a former Woodbury-ite and engineer, draws a crude pulley system by which they can operate the entrance remotely.

Three expedition groups are planned for the crack of dawn: one heading to the woods to collect logs, another into town to collect scrap metal and hardware supplies, and a third to stock up on whatever food, drink and medicine is left out there in order to accommodate their exponential growth. For tonight, Rick, Daryl and Glen set up a makeshift barricade, while Sasha, Tyrese, Michonne and Carl clear the field of walkers.

Michonne and Carl stand side by side after he shoots the last one down.

"Bullets don't grow on trees," she comments, slashing her katana through the air to clear it of walker blood and brain matter. Carl watches the motion, half-offended by her lack of respect for his weapon (he's a damned good shot!) and half-starstruck with hers.

"Did you know how to use it before all this?"

She smiles the same way she had at the papier-mâché cat. "I've taken lessons since middle school."

"Try holding it," she offers after sheathing the sword, arching one brow in challenge. Carl reaches for it (lighter than he thought it'd be) and grips the handle with both hands, extending the weapon straight out in front of him.

**Later that evening…**

"I saw you outside with Carl today." She glances up to where he stands in front of her briefly before continuing her sit-ups. Rick is surprised that he understands the look: not disinterest, but rather acknowledgement and silent encouragement to continue.

"Next time, I'd appreciate if you'd ask me first before agreeing to teach him how to sword fight." She finishes another rep before replying: "Won't happen again."

"Glad to hear it." He turns to walk back into cellblock C, but stops. "Thank you. I haven't seen Carl this excited about something since–" His head hangs low. She knows. She's seen it firsthand, Carl's desperation to get a picture of his mother at any cost.

"Do you still see her?" Michonne's quiet voice pulls Rick back from the spiral of heartbreak that burns in his chest every time he thinks of Lori. It has only been about a month since she died and Judith was born. Days later, Michonne strolled into their lives with a basket of baby formula, and their beef with the governor kicked off. Rick takes a seat at the common area tables beside her. Shaking his head, "Not today." Michonne picks up on the subtle longing in his tone. "Do you?"

She sits up, folding her arms across her knees. "Not since before Andrea. When he left, it was like living on autopilot. There was nothing left for me to care about." She glances up to gauge his reaction to this unexpected overshare. He's listening despite not looking at her. "Then I found Andrea, and there was."

After Merle's colorful description, Rick couldn't help but wonder how close Michonne and Andrea became. The logical side of him knows it was just the kind of friendship that forms when both parties only have each other, but... His thoughts went wild once. Imagining the two women naked and wrapped in one another's embrace, kissing slowly and thoroughly. He'd stroked himself absentmindedly when Andrea's fingers snaked their way between Michonne's thighs, eliciting a feminine gasp (he'd noticed her voice was rather feminine on the rare occasions when she spoke a full sentence). Then, an image of Lori had pummeled through his fantasy like a bullet train.

He hadn't been intimate with his wife since the farm nearly eight months ago, but despite their problems, there had been a glimmer of hope the day Hershel hobbled out for the first time. She'd smiled at Rick shyly, tucking her hair behind her head like a nervous teenage girl in front of the boy she likes. And that was the last he saw of her.

Michonne uses Rick's knee to support her weight as she stands up. It's unnecessary, but he's zoned out again, face as dreary as ever. She doesn't like caring about people, not since this mess began, and she hadn't met any men worth caring about. With social restraints lifted, she had seen the worst in men until her escape. That's how she knew the Governor was not what he seemed. The perverse leer under his genteel veneer was as clear as day. She had expected the same from Rick, but turns out he's still clinging to some outdated code of honor. Most of the time, it irks her. She doesn't like caring about people, but Rick's goodness demands it, so she squeezes his knee on her way up. The kind of support she can give.

He looks at her in surprise. When he'd threatened her while investigating the whereabouts of Maggie and Glen, she'd recoiled with a threat of her own: "don't you EVER touch me again!" and he realized instantly that he'd made a mistake. Touch was one of her boundaries, and he has been careful not to cross it again. So the fact that she's touching him now is shocking. He must be in really bad shape.

Rick acknowledges academically that he has an attraction to Michonne, one that's primarily mental and increasingly physical. He admires how such a tiny frame can possess so much strength, and he appreciates her obvious intelligence. Her pants leave little to the imagination, but he predicts a tiny waist and ample bosom up top to pair with her apple bottom and toned thighs. And her skin tone is exquisite. Like it has a life, an energy of its own. It's as if she's trying to transfer some of that energy to him through this momentary contact. She gives him a small, almost imperceptible smile before walking away.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, their pulley doorway has been mounted, and every able-bodied person is outside, either plowing or planting. Rick looks a plot away at where Michonne and Carl work silently side by side. They have a system; she digs a hole and plants the cucumber seed, then he replaces the soil and waters the spot.

Rick has tried to talk to his son several times over the past week. The boy either stalks off mid-conversation or more recently, stands emotionless like a brick wall (Rick chooses to view this change as progress). Carl's eyes only light up during his daily kendo lessons just before sundown. Michonne had come back from the wood-gathering expedition with a carefully selected branch and fashioned it into a wooden replica of her sword, signifying, to Rick's relief, that she's a safety first kind of teacher. He watches her mutter something to Carl, who nods, before she stands and makes her way over to him.

"Can I speak with you?" She doesn't wait for his response before walking off to an isolated corner. He follows, aware of the curious eyes trailing them.

"Something you'd like to say to me?" She states. He glances back at Carl who's watching them and drawls out, "No."

"I can feel you staring." She pushes. Rick remains silent. How does he put his childish feelings in words? Is there even a point? This is Carl's choice, after all. He prefers this stranger to his father. It had only taken her one day – _one day! _– to convert his wary son from "why'd you let her come" to "I think she's one of us." He, on the other hand, hadn't caused a smile since they named Judith. Rick is jealous.

"He's your son." She looks directly in his eyes. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. Just–," her eyes dart away and her voice softens, "borrowing him. For a while." She looks back up at him, eyes bright and full of emotion.

Rick is taken aback. Borrowing him? Had Michonne been a mother before all this? Among everyone he's come across post-apocalypse, she's the only one who's past he can't predict. She's shed it so thoroughly, it's like she was born into this world. He takes in her face, afraid she'll cry, but seconds later, her stoic mask returns and she stalks back to her place beside Carl without waiting for a response.

Maybe she should, but Michonne doesn't feel guilty about encroaching on Rick's quality time with Carl. She didn't put the kid up to it, and having the chance to pass on one of her passions is filling a hole in her she'd forgotten about. Neither of her daughters showed any interest in kendo, following instead in their father's track-and-field footsteps. She was okay with that.

They had been visiting him for the first time post-divorce when this plague started spreading, and she'd hopped in a car with her brother, driving like a madwoman, hoping they were safe. She was about to turn onto her ex-husband's cul-de-sac when she saw their tiny bodies, lifeless and wandering the streets beside their equally dead father.

"Are you okay?" Carl asks when she returns. She smiles and nods, grateful, and they resume their routine. Rick is left to ponder the mystery that is Michonne as he subconsciously plants tomato seeds.

**Later that evening…**

After dinner, Rick wanders outsides and stands as he watches Carl practice. Michonne has him running drills on how to react if he drops the sword, then she demonstrates a few basic strokes. They finish with a high five, smiles on both faces that instinctively draw one out of Rick as well. Darkness is chasing the sun below the horizon as they walk toward him on their way back to the prison.

"Looking good, Carl." he calls out genuinely, and Carl gives him a tiny smile before walking past him. Rick looks up at Michonne, amazed and happy, but she just nods on her way by him.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" She stops and turns back to him, her expression expectant. He turns his gaze away from her as he speaks in his steady drawl.

"Look, I'm sorry about the way I came across this afternoon. I won't lie; things aren't going so well with me and Carl. But that's not on you. Truth is, I'm glad Carl's learning something new. For fun, you know? You forget sometimes. That that's one the great parts of being a kid. Well, being alive, really." He looks at her then, a tiny smirk on his lips. "So I should really be thanking you."

She looks amused now. She shrugs and starts strolling aimlessly. Rick walks beside her. "It's fun for me, too," she says, and they continue in silence around the perimeter of the gate before Rick asks the question on his mind. "How old was your kid?" She doesn't respond immediately, and he fights the temptation to study her face as they continue walking.

"7. And 4." She pauses. "Girls. Hannah and Willow." She stops and looks into the woods beyond the fence. He does study her then, realizing that this is her vulnerable. She's reliving her memories, but still alert, vigilant to the present backdrop of crickets and growling walkers. And Rick's perceptive gaze. "At least I know," she finishes and resumes walking.

He doesn't push her, and they continue their default perimeter check in the cool evening air. It turns into a routine. After dinner, he watches Carl practice, like a father at little league. Joins in at times, as a substitute walker/punching bag (they picked up some padding on a run). And afterwards, he and Michonne walk the perimeter. The others start to notice.


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: Alright, for the sake of orienting you readers, here's my timeline of the epidemic. Looks like only a year has passed since it started: (Rick wakes up 2 months in, finds his wife within 2 weeks at which point she gets knocked up, since she stopped sleeping with Shane when Rick came back, but still doesn't know who the babydaddy is. Nine months later, they're at the prison, and all of Season 3 takes place over a month. Adds up to 1 year and 2 weeks). I already claimed that it's currently mid-spring (aka mid-May). So I'm arbitrarily deciding that this disease started spreading beginning of May 2010 (first episode of TWD aired Halloween 2010, so I'm a bit off, but as Daryl would say, "Whatever."). **_

_**Also, this chapter includes mentions of rape (that will surface throughout the story), murder and suicidal thoughts. As well as a massive flashback designated in italics. A lot of Michonne, and not much Richonne. You've been warned.**_

They're actually almost a decade apart in age, but somehow (maybe because they're the same size physically), Michonne and Maggie start hanging out. Michonne sometimes wonders if she's just trying to replace Andrea, but then, she shrugs it off. Sure, both women gave her the same first impression, fighters in a world that has reverted to a caveman view of gender roles. But what Michonne is _really_ attracted to is the light. Maybe it's youth or experiencing her first love, but there's light around Maggie. Despite everything, she's still living the feminist dream, a perfect mix of hard and soft free of any societal pressure.

It's that light that makes the farmer's daughter the least timid about befriending Michonne and drawing her into conversation. The first time they met was pretty dramatic, so Maggie's curiosity is piqued even further. Despite her family, she'd been lonely on the farm, wondering if she'd ever meet someone new again. So when the rest of the gang showed up, she'd turned it into a hobby, asking people for their life story. And during their stint on the winter road between the farm and the prison, the hobby turned into a refuge that kept her (and everyone else) sane. So Maggie isn't about to stop now, and Michonne is beyond fascinating.

One evening after dinner (a little over two weeks since Woodbury ceased to exist), everyone loiters in the dining hall for what turns into an impromptu game night. A credit to their favor, the Woodbury clan brought their board games and card decks. Maggie sees Michonne wander in with Rick as things really get going, and she waves her over to her table with Karen and Carol.

Rick taps Michonne's arm lightly in departure and heads over to a _de facto_ men's table. She arrives at the women's table and places her katana and Carl's practice replica on the ground beside her.

"You came just in time. We just finished up a practice hand of poker, and now we're playing for real." Maggie informs her. "You in?" Michonne nods, as Carol begins to shuffle the deck. They sit in silence for a few moments waiting for their hands.

"So," Maggie looks at the ladies sitting on either side of her. "Did y'all vote for Obama?"

Two sets of amused eyebrows arch in her direction, while Carol just chuckles, dips her head low, and murmurs, "Here we go again." Michonne squints her smiling eyes in curiosity and replies, "Of all the small-talk questions you could ask. 'Did we vote for Obama.' Why do you wanna know?"

"Oh nothing. Just curious is all. I voted for him. First time votin', too. But then, the world went to hell, so I'm reevaluatin' that decision."

Michonne starts laughing out loud, while Karen blinks before sputtering out, "Wait, wait, wait, wait. So you're saying that because America elected its first black president, the apocalypse happened? Really?"

"Not like cause and effect or nothin'. I just–," Maggie shrugs. "Guess it wasn't meant to be."

"Guess not." Michonne mutters, shaking her head in amusement. She hasn't thought about politics once this past year. Carol has finished dealing and handing out chips, so each woman is studying her hand, deciding on the best course of action.

"So did y'all vote for him or not?"

Karen smiles whimsically, "Yep, I did. Couldn't tell you why now, though."

Michonne chimes in, "But thank goodness for the Affordable Care Act. If not for Obamacare, I doubt we'd have survived these walkers. " The four women snicker derisively.

Karen: "Wait, what else was there?"

Michonne: "Credit card reform. A key piece of legislation seeing as I haven't paid my bill in a good minute."

Maggie: "Oh wait, there's the auto bailout. That one might've actually done some good. Better gas mileage and all."

Carol: "Don't we drive a Hyundai?"

They all pause a moment looking at each other before their giggles turn into cackles, attracting the curious eyes of neighboring tables.

Karen wipes tears of laughter from her eyes, "At least I don't have to worry about looking for a job anymore. Goodbye recession; hello biters."

"What'd you do before all this, Michonne?" Maggie asks.

"Corporate lawyer," she answers nonchalantly, and they each award her with their best "look who's a big deal" face.

"Then what?" Michonne looks questioningly at Maggie, who elaborates, "What all happened between this startin' and you sittin' here today?"

Her mind flashes quickly over the last year:

_After discovering her daughters and ex-husband undead on the street, she'd holed up with her brother and boyfriend at his house. Suddenly two weeks into this mess, their home had been invaded by a group of men who had murdered her brother and boyfriend before her eyes before looting the house and dragging her to their base camp. For the next two weeks, she had been chained and raped repeatedly by different men. When she was alone, she talked to her boyfriend, who urged her to join him on the other side, and as the wretched days wore on, she devised a way to successfully kill herself. _

_The day before her impending suicide, two of her rapists had rushed in and released her, one armed with a pistol, the other with the katana they'd stolen from her home. Turns out the camp was being overrun by a herd of walkers, and they'd come to get her before making an escape (she'll never know if it was a moment of altruism or a selfish desire to preserve their only vagina). Fortunately, the idiot with the katana sliced his arm after swinging across his body to take out a walker, and in the blood and chaos, Michonne recovered her weapon. _

_She and the man with the pistol managed to fight back the onslaught of walkers and sealed themselves off in the room. They were surrounded, but she took comfort in being the only one armed with a weapon when the pistol ran out of bullets. She immediately fastened the chains that were once on her onto the two men. Then with pleasure, she'd rammed her sword through both their hearts._

_That's when she learned that regardless of how you die, you turn. She was trapped in a room surrounded by biters with two biters themselves, but since they were chained, she didn't bother to take them out. Instead she further relished their helplessness, as they had done to her. Then something intriguing happened. The walkers outside started to dissipate, almost as if they could no longer sense her presence. Michonne quickly concluded that the deadness of two walkers around her masked her living scent. So she decided to take them with her; first, chopping off their grasping, grubby arms, then smashes their faces against the bedframe to dislocate their jaws. And so a little over a month after the disease started spreading, she took off into the woods with her sword and her captors-turned-pets._

_Over the next three months, she lived alone, only scavenging for resources when no one would detect her presence. She'd put herself on a round of antibiotics immediately, hoping it would preemptively take out any sexually transmitted infections to which she'd been exposed. She hadn't noticed any symptoms, but then again, it's not like she had the luxuries of getting tested at Planned Parenthood, much less a daily shower and thorough self-inspection. Her boyfriend kept her company – made her laugh or cry, but mostly, continued suggesting that she end it all. In the end however, he could see that she was more and more determined to survive for god-knows-why. So a month into her "My Side of the Mountain" adventure, he disappeared. _

_She'd gone a bit crazy when he left. Wandered the woods searching for him. Cried herself to sleep hoping that when she woke up, he'd be there again. Once more, she seriously contemplated taking her life. What was she living for? Her family was gone. Her career didn't matter. And based on what she'd been through, she doubted there was anyone good out there left to meet. So why wake up every morning when the only way things could ever go was down? _

_She didn't have an explicit answer, just a drive to keep living. So three weeks after he'd gone, she hit the 'reset' button in her mind. She wasn't going to kill herself, so she'd never give it thought again. The past was done, so she wouldn't think about it again. All that mattered was today's food, water, shelter, and safety. And off she went. Now truly alone, she only thought of those four things for the next month. She broke into libraries and stole survival books. Taught herself the basics of tracking, finding a natural water source, starting a fire. And she cleaned and polished her sword. _

_Then one afternoon, four months into the apocalypse, she heard gunfire. She carefully made her way over, only to see a lone blonde woman shooting at walkers before she ran out of rounds. Curious but cautious, Michonne followed her through early evening, watching her kill a biter with the butt of her gun before pulling out a knife. The woman's luck was running out, and Michonne felt her panic when she stumbled to the ground, crawling desperately from another member of the undead. She couldn't tell you why, but she decided to intervene then, and that was the night Michonne met Andrea._

_Seven months later, the two women are in Woodbury, and Michonne undergoes a culture shock.* Looking around this town of people who behave as if nothing has changed, she feels like she suffocating and wonders if the life she lived just under a year ago was even real. It doesn't help that "the Governor" is a thinly veiled psychopath. She wants out, and she finds a way, only to lose another person she cares about. This time not to disease, but because that person doesn't care nearly as much about her._

_It stings. She'd like to say her vendetta against the Governor is based on a selfless desire to protect Andrea from his inevitable violence, but it's substantially more about finding the proof to say, "I told you so." She doesn't like being this petty, but there it is. For the sake of her "I told you so," Michonne allows herself to get swept into an embroiling war between two camps, something she'd normally avoid. _

_At first, she's confused by this group; there's a one-legged old man, a pubescent boy, and a baby? Not to mention the couple so enamored with each other, they'd all but shouted their address with a bullhorn. She might be better alone, she thinks, but then she sees some survival instinct in the two men that question her. And the old man turns out to have medical skills, which she realizes (as soon as she gets shot) is a huge weakness in her personal survival toolkit. _

_So she sticks around, even after they rescue the couple, whose names turn out to be Maggie and Glenn. It's 75 percent she wants to kill the Gov, and 25 percent these people are alright. Then she goes on a weapons run with Rick and Carl, and it swings to 50:50. When they find Andrea in a pool of her own blood, Michonne takes back every mean and spiteful thought she's ever had about her dying friend. She's been observing the group's dynamics, and she can't deny that they're good people. Good enough to humanize Merle, even. Maybe they can do the same for her? She only wishes she and Andrea had found them together._

Back in the present, Maggie's attention turns from raising her bet (she has three of a kind) to glancing at Michonne, who's taken longer than the expected pause to respond her question. The once-upon-a-lawyer is deep in thought. Maggie's eyes dart around the table, where Karen and Carol have also noticed Michonne's introspection.

"Fine, don't answer. Just my way of distractin' you while I steal all your money. Three of a kind!" Maggie excitedly reveals her hand and effectively knocks Michonne back into the moment. Michonne and Karen have nothing poker-wise, but Carol surprises them all with a full house.

Maggie: "What! How's that possible? Wait a second, you're the dealer!"

Carol's face assumes its familiar smirk: "You accusing me of something?" Her face makes it obvious that she cheated. "Maybe next time, that'll teach you to keep a lid on your Obama talk." The look of betrayal on Maggie's face sends the three older women into fits of laughter, and their game night continues.

Michonne calls it a night when Maggie suggests playing "Never-Have-I-Ever." She's too mature, and more importantly, too sober for this. But she leaves laughing, walking a little less like a hunter.

Maggie's not surprised by Michonne's departure; rather, she pleased. To her surprise, the katana warrior is actually really chatty, with the kind of snark Maggie values. Sure, when there's work to be done, she is like a horse with blinders, focused and efficient to a fault. Rick is similar that way, but slightly less extreme. Maggie wonders if maybe that was one of the problems between him and Lori. And then, she can't help smiling as she watches the "last samurai" retreat to the cellblock, recalling Michonne's interaction with Rick when they'd first walked in. Maggie saw the arm graze. And she's noticed the walks. Her thoughts fill with evil laughter. Soon, she and Glenn would be double dating and making photomontages called "It Was the Best Night Ever."**

_**A/N: I have no political agenda. I just find it hilarious how utterly useless many (if not all) of the bills passed on Capitol Hill would be in a zombie apocalypse. Also, no idea how to play poker. If the info I got from Wikipedia or the language is unrealistic/unnatural, my bad.**_

_***There's this man who disappeared during the Vietnam War with his kid, and the two have just been found 40 years later ( .uk/news/article-2386849/Man-went-missing-son-Viet namese-jungle-40-years). I imagine Michonne is feeling (on a smaller scale) what they must have felt stepping into the modern world where there are so many people and everything moves so fast.**_

_**** reference to HIMYM Season 5, Episode 4.**_


End file.
